


Dagger Now Sheathed

by kedriaa



Series: Missing Scenes Trilogy [2]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-05
Updated: 2011-06-05
Packaged: 2017-10-20 04:30:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/208750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kedriaa/pseuds/kedriaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ambushed at camp, the Warden was forced to take a life she cherished. As she mourned, she wondered where she would find the strength to carry on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dagger Now Sheathed

The waning moon peeked through the broken clouds, its brilliance momentarily bathing the forest in an icy blue. The spring glittered like frost in the moonlight and the smooth rocks shone like marbles.

The Grey Warden sat hunched against a willow tree with her knees drawn up under her chin. She stared into the spring with unseeing eyes, half expecting a halla to appear and drink from it. For years, she had treasured that memory, but now it only brought her pain.

 _It must be raining,_ she thought as a drop of moisture suddenly touched her knee, _why else would my cheeks be wet?_

Shifting her gaze from the pool, she let it fall upon the daggers that now lay idle beside her. Countless had fallen to her blades, their blood spilt without regret however, tonight, for the first time, she felt like a murderer. The blood of her last kill still clung to the daggers, staining her soul as much as it stained the blades. The urge to throw her weapons away was almost overwhelming, but she knew all too well that discarding them would not lessen the sickening feeling in her gut.

In spite of Duncan's adamant proclamation that Tamlen was beyond their help, she had stubbornly held onto the hope that he had survived somehow. Tamlen was strong willed and even more stubborn than she was. She needed to believe in him, and it was this belief that had carried her this far. Tamlen had always been there, as steadfast as the rising sun. Now that dusk had arrived, the pang of loneliness sliced into her keenly.

In the dim reaches of her memory, seemingly from a different lifetime, she could hear the faint echo of Hahren Paivel's voice reciting a poem of an ancient ritual.

 _Swiftly do stars burn a path across the sky,  
Hast'ning to place one last kiss upon your eye.  
Tenderly land enfolds you in slumber,  
Softening the rolling thunder.  
Dagger now sheathed, bow no longer tense.  
During this, your last hour, only silence._

The rustle of the underbrush and a faint clink of armour announced the presence of another. In better times, she would have armed herself and been ready to battle within mere seconds, but she could not summon the will. She did not even cast a glance towards her visitor, be it friend or foe. Let Falon'Din claim her for all she cared.

"I brought you a cloak." She heard Alistair say. "It's cold tonight."

When she made no move to respond, he simply threw the cloak around her shoulders. Without needing an invitation, Alistair sat next to her and took her hand. She squeezed his gratefully in return.

Alistair then spoke again, "We've taken care of the bodies, including Tamlen's."

"Ma serannas," she whispered, "Thank you."

"You told me once your people planted a tree over the body of your departed," Alistair said. "I'm sorry you couldn't honour Tamlen that way."

"That's alright. Tamlen didn't want to be buried," she answered. "When we were young, a city elf had come to us seeking refuge. One of the many things he told us of his people was that they practiced cremation. The ashes of their dead would then be cast into the winds. In death, they would be forever free from the shackles of their mortal lives.

"Tamlen took to that idea instantly. He hated the thought of being stuffed into the ground with an ever-growing tree crushing his bones. His words, not mine. So in a perverse way it worked out for him. The clan would not have consented to cremating him." She smiled sadly and looked down at the weapons that had ultimately reft Tamlen's life away.

"There was no other choice. You had to do it," Alistair declared with conviction. "The darkspawn corruption was already killing him, and it would have become even more horrible and painful before the end. There is no shame in giving him a merciful and honourable death."

"I know," she replied softly and let her shoulders drop, "But it still hurts."

A moment of silence lapsed before Alistair asked, "The two of you were very close, weren't you?"

She took a shuddering breath, willing the tears not to fall. "Yes, we were. He was my intended."

After a startled pause Alistair said, "Oh," and despite the attempt to stifle his jealousy, she still heard it in his voice. For some reason, it made her feel better.

She cocked her head and looked at Alistair's slightly flushed cheeks. Then she asked, "Are you jealous?"

"What? No!" he exclaimed.

"Don't be," she pacified. "Tamlen and I were raised together, did everything together. We even received our vallaslin, our blood writing together." She touched the tattoos on her forehead. "We were almost inseparable. It was this closeness and Tamlen's obvious devotion to me that fuelled our clan's assumption that we would be bonded eventually. I loved him dearly. He was my brother and my best friend but never my lover."

A hint of a smile twitched in the corners of Alistair's lips, and he tried to hide it. "You weren't in love with him?" he asked.

She looked away, her eyes distant and thoughtful. "Once I thought I was. What I felt for him I felt for no other. It wasn't till later that I realised it was something different, though no less deep and precious."

"What changed your mind?"

"You, of course." She smiled genuinely for the first time that night.

Alistair returned her smile, but made no verbal reply. Instead, he lifted her hand to his lips and placed a tender kiss upon her wrist. She reached up to cup his face, then slowly drew him closer. She kissed him passionately, hungrily; desperate with the need to feel the comfort of one she loved. As he responded with equal fervour, she drank in the euphoria of his touch and allowed herself to fall into the solace he so willingly offered.

"I'd offer a hug," he whispered when they parted, "But I think I'm a little hard."

"Are you now?" she replied with a suggestive smirk.

"Oh! I… ah… no!" Alistair stuttered as he blushed furiously. "No! Not me! I meant my armour!" He rapped on his breastplate nervously. "I mean, my armour is hard and cold and not very huggable and all. But that doesn't mean I won't... that is, if you... not that you aren't..." Alistair exhaled exasperatedly and chided himself, "Maker's breath, Alistair, shut up and stop digging already!"

She laughed, somewhat amazed that she still could; all thanks to the amazing man that sat with her, blushing for all he was worth. She gazed affectionately at Alistair, feeling a great warmth and serenity blooming in her chest. The weight of her burden eased a bit, even if traces of regret over what she had been forced to do still lingered, and probably would for a long while, but they were laced with a new hope. Whilst Tamlen had been the foundation of her childhood, Alistair would now be the steady hand that kept her from faltering. She knew that with Alistair by her side, they could banish the darkness that had shrouded their lives and face any trials to come.

"Oh, Alistair, I love you so." She kissed him again.

He smiled through his embarrassment. "I love you too, even if you're bad, making an innocent Chantry boy blush and all."

She chuckled again, then stood and sheathed her daggers. "Come, let's get some rest. We still have a long way to go."

As they walked back to camp in companionable silence, she took Alistair's hand once more. She had no intention of ever letting go.

~Fin~


End file.
